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I still haven’t decided whether or not I believe in Santa. When I was a child, I believed in him wholeheartedly, and I was rewarded with a stocking full of candy and plenty of presents under the tree. One time I even received a note from Santa, which was horribly scribbled. He apologized for the poor penmanship, citing bad weather and a bumpy sleigh ride down from the North Pole. As I got older my faith in Santa faded, as did the number of presents under the tree and the amount of candy in my stocking; until one year I just flat-out no longer believed. And since then, Christmas has never been the same.

I understand that Santa is the single greatest tool in motivating a child. Even in mid-July there is a chance that threatening a child with, “Santa is watching, you don’t want to get on his naughty list do you?” will result in the child instantly cleaning his or her bedroom or removing their fist from a sibling’s face. Once fall hits and the realization that Christmas is quickly approaching, kids become borderline saints, and putty in their parent’s hands. Everything they do is motivated by the fact that they think Santa will put them on the nice list.

I remember going to see Santa Claus at the mall when I was younger, and it seemed like he always asked, “Have you been a good boy this year? Have you been listening to your parents?”
If parents were smart, they’d slip the Santa a twenty to ask a series of questions.
“Are you being nice to your sisters, cleaning your bedroom, doing your homework, letting your parents sleep in on Saturdays?”Continue reading →